


What Could Be

by Love_to_Love_Puppies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Mutual Pining, Plance AU Week 2018, future kids, pidgance, plance, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 21:07:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14363709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_to_Love_Puppies/pseuds/Love_to_Love_Puppies
Summary: While on a solo mission, Pidge and Lance get stranded in an alternate, future, dimension where they’re married with three kids! Will this glimpse at a possible future have them seeing each other in a different way?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve already got too many works in progress, but inspiration strikes wherever the hell it wants apparently, and whenever it wants because it’s 12:30 in the morning as I start to write this. But oh well, I didn't need sleep anyway. Enjoy!

“How’s it going with you guys?” Shiro asked over the comms unit.

“It’s a match. The rings of this planet are all made of the same trans reality material as the comet and Voltron,” Pidge confirmed, wearing that confident smile she dons whenever she's right, which is often.

“Good work, collect as many samples as you can and head back to the castle,” Shiro said.

“Okay, see you soon,” she replied before ending the conversation. “Lance, help me fill up some of these containers with rocks.”

“You got it!” I grinned, taking a cylindrical container from her and getting to work, “Does it matter how big they are?”

“Not really, just get whatever will fit in the container,” she shrugged, swiping my empty canister through the suspended string of rocks, filling it over halfway in one pass. We finished in less than five minutes before climbing back into our respective lions and heading back to the castle.

“Hey Lance, does the castle look at all different to you?” she asked me as we approached. I squinted at the castle, not noticing anything particularly off.

“I don’t think so. Why?” I asked her.

“I don’t know, it just looks different to me for some reason,” she answered.

“It’s probably because all the debris around here cleared out. Reminds me of when we used to drive three hours to my grandparents house. There were so many times I’d notice something and my mom would just be like, ‘that has been there for twenty years,’” I laughed.

“Yeah that’s probably it,” Pidge replied though she still didn’t sound 100% convinced, “Though now that we know alternate realities are a thing, how do you know you didn’t actually pass through an alternate reality?”

“Whoa, mind blown! A whole reality just to add an RV park in the middle of fucking nowhere,” I laughed.

“Technically speaking, it’s possible. Either that or you’re just unobservant,” she pointed out with a chuckle.

“Could go either way,” I laughed. I like to think that I’m pretty good at reading people and noticing small things, but, then again, I was also the only one who hadn’t realized Pidge was a girl, so maybe not.

I flew into the hanger, thinking about how I was ready to take a shower before dinner. I realized almost instantly that those plans would probably have to be put on hold, because there was already a lion in my hanger.

 “Um…is there a lion in your hanger too?” I asked her.

“Yeah…” she replied.

“I think you might have been onto something,” I said.

“Ya think?” she remarked sarcastically, “The trans-reality rocks in the rings of that planet must have caused us to enter another reality. Meet me at the entrance to the hangers, and be as quiet as possible, we don’t know anything about this reality.”

“Copy that,” I replied.

I couldn't have told you  _when_ we would have entered an alternate reality, it definitely wasn’t the same glowing portal experience as the first time.

Parking my lion beside the other lion was relatively easy considering how large the hanger is. I lowered the ramp and stepped out, cringing at the way the thud of the metal hitting the floor reverberated. I paused, listening, but the only sound was the steady hum of the castle.

I took the opportunity to study the other lion. Other than a little extra wear and tear on the paint, there didn't appear to be any noticeable differences. I hoped that meant we were in a reality that is relatively similar to our own.

Keeping close to the wall, I crept down the corridor, my bayard ready, just in case. 

A hand touched my elbow and I whipped around, taking a defensive stance.

“Just me, sorry,” Pidge whispered, a sheepish smile on her face.

There were voices somewhere down the hallway, but the way sounds echoed through the castle it was nearly impossible to know which direction they were coming from. I peeked around a corner nodding to Pidge that the coast was clear.

So far, so good.

Yeah, famous last words.

Not a second later, a door slid open and little girl who was probably eight years old, wandered into the hallway. She was distracted by her tablet, so she hadn’t noticed us yet. Unfortunately, there was literally nowhere to hide without inadvertently drawing more attention to ourselves, so instead, Pidge and I pressed our backs against the wall, hoping she would go the other way without looking up.

But she did. Of course. She stopped when she saw us, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she looked between us and the room she had come from.

Pidge tugged on my arm, indicating that we should run, but I was frozen to my spot a gasp catching in my throat. This girl looked _just_ like my mom. I didn't know what this meant, but my mind already reeling with possibilities. Could we be in a past reality where my mom was raised on the castle? It seemed unlikely, but technically anything was possible in alternate realities.

“Mom come here!!” the girl said. She didn't have an accent which poked a few more holes in my theory.

“I’m kind of busy Halley, what is it?” a voice—Pidge’s voice—called back, this time she gasped, nearly dropping her bayard in surprise.

The implications hit me like a truck. We weren't in the past, we were in the future, a future where Pidge and I are together. And this girl, who looks so much like my mom—so much like _me—_ is our _daughter_.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pidge cock her head as she studied Halley, probably trying to extract her traits from Halley’s appearance. I could only find one: her eye color, which was the same shade of honey brown as Pidge’s. Everything else about her she seemed to have gotten from me.

Given the fact that Pidge was still squinting at Halley and not looking at me in what would probably have been unadulterated shock and horror, meant she hadn’t figured out that I’m Halley’s father. At least not yet.

Under any other circumstances I would have been smug about the fact that, perhaps for the first time ever, I was way ahead of her. But now was not the time.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I end up with Pidge. It wasn’t that I didn’t find her attractive, I’ve just always felt that she’s way too far out of my league. She’s cute, funny, fun to hang out with, and smart—really smart. Too smart for me—which she had made abundantly clear in her constant teasing and remarks. I knew she didn’t mean it maliciously, or at least I _hoped_ she didn’t, but regardless, it served as enough evidence that she would never have considered a relationship with me. We simply weren’t intellectually compatible.

Or, so I thought. Maybe I’m smarter in this reality.

“You need to see this,” Halley called back.

“Okay, okay. What is—?” the older version of Pidge sighed, walking into the corridor. She stopped, eyes wide, when she saw us. She was the same height as the Pidge that stood beside me, but somehow she appeared taller. Maybe that had something to do with the way her long hair was tied back in a messy bun on the top of her head. There was a line of grease across her forehead and a few black fingerprints on the hem her t-shirt; she had clearly been interrupted from the middle of a project.

“Halley, go get your dad,” she ordered. Halley ran off dutifully.

“So I take it you guys are from an alternate reality?” Pidge’s older self asked, studying us warily, probably evaluating how quickly she could grab her bayard if this devolved into a fight. “Which one?”

“Seems like one pretty similar to this one,” Pidge managed, “Are you guys fighting the Galra empire?”

“We beat them, actually,” her older self grinned, “About ten years ago.”

“Did you ever get to go back home?” I asked, hopefully.

“All the time. I had lunch with my mom last week,” Pidge’s older self shrugged.

I couldn’t help but smile a little. Living in space but still being able to see my family was basically the dream. I opened his mouth to ask a question but lost my train of thought when two more girls skidded into the hallway.

I could see a lot more of Pidge in these two. The older one was probably around fifteen and had the fairest hair and skin out of all three—though still a few shades darker than Pidge’s. She had her mother’s eyes, but she must have inherited my height because she was several inches taller than Pidge. The middle daughter was was probably around ten; she looked nearly identical to Pidge but that wasn’t immediately obvious because she had all of my coloring.

“Woah,” the older girl said, grinning.

Suddenly, my voice came from the opposite direction, “Halley, if you and your Uncle Matt are playing another prank you’re going to be in trouble.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Halley protested and she skipped into the corridor dragging a very groggy older me with her; if I had to guess, she had probably just woken me—him—up from a nap.

“Oh shit,” my older self stopped when he saw us.

First thing I noticed was the goatee.

Second thing I noticed was that I was missing my left arm. From the middle of my—his—bicep down was a metal prosthetic that reminded me of Shiro’s.

I wonder how I’m going to lose it. Without meaning to, I touched my own wrist, as if to make sure it was still there.

I hazarded a glance at Pidge who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Her eyes had gone wide, her mouth in a small “o” shape. She looked at me and blushed a bright red, looking away immediately after meeting my gaze. I suppose it wasn’t quite the shock and horror I was expecting, but embarrassment wasn’t really that much of an improvement.

“You guys having a party in the hallway?” a voice—Hunk’s—interrupted my silent freak-out. “Umm…okay?” he said when he saw us, arching an eyebrow.

“Alternate reality,” the older Pidge answered his unspoken question.

“…I’ll get Allura,” Hunk sighed, sounding annoyed, he muttered something under his breath as he walked away. Two little kids—obviously his and Shay’s—trailed behind him; our Hunk would be happy to know he ends up with Shay, assuming, of course, we can get back to our original reality.

“Tell her to meet us on the bridge,” the older Pidge called after him, motioning for us to follow her. As we walked down the hallway, more people kept poking their heads out until we had amassed a large parade of people. I could hear their whispers behind us but I couldn't make out exactly what was said.

Once we made it to the bridge, all the kids were sent out of the room, much to their chagrin. I didn’t know if this was to “spare them the horrors of war” or simply because it was crowded in there. Regardless, I suspected they were probably lingering outside the doors tying to listen in.  

After what I considered to be an extraordinarily long questioning process, it was determined that A) this reality is twenty-one years into the future, B) everything Pidge and I know has happened in the past, C) our future selves never traveled to an alternate dimension and D) because of that, anything and everything that happens after we get back to our own dimension could be different than this reality.

I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Well,” Allura cleared her throat, “Dinner is in half a varga, so you can go with your future selves to your rooms if you would like to wash up before we eat.”

I supposed that was probably the best we could do for now. Pidge, her future self, Hunk, and Matt were already trying to come up with a way they could use the rocks we collected to create a device that would allow us to go back to our original reality, but it would take at least a week, maybe two.

I hoped that wouldn’t be too long, after all, our reality is still in the middle of a war and the team can’t form Voltron while we’re here.

“Come on,” Pidge’s future self said, motioning for us to follow her. No one spoke as we followed the long corridors to the area of the castle that houses the sleeping corridors.

“Go ahead and ask,” my future self broke the silence, “I know you both want to.”

“How’d you lose it?” I wondered.

“Saving my life,” Pidge’s older self said.

“It was like twenty years ago—or, was it nineteen?” he asked, looking at her.

“It was four years before we got married, so yeah, twenty,” she replied.

I cringed a little, realizing that if our reality follows this path, that meant I’d lose my arm in about a year. Maybe now that I know, I'd be able to prevent it.

“Okay, so twenty years ago, Pidge and I were on some planet that had been suffering from a lot of earthquakes because of Galra drilling, and we were trying to figure out how to stabilize it. We were walking through this valley and there was an aftershock and this boulder fell off the cliff above us,” he said.

“And he pushed me out of the way,” Pidge’s older self continued, “His arm got pinned under the boulder and we couldn’t do anything until Coran arrived with the castle.”

“I think I must have been in shock because I didn’t have any pain, but she was freaking out and crying,” he told us.

“I was reacting the perfect amount for someone in that situation. You were underreacting,” she grumbled under her breath.

“While she was still freaking out, she ended up confessing that she was in love with me,” he said.

“If I remember correctly— _which I do_ — _you’r_ _e_ the one who said it first,” she said.

“Regardless of who admitted it first,” he said mouthing the words “she did” and pointing to his wife, “We both said it, and we’ve been together ever since,” my older self finished, putting his arm around her shoulder. I hadn't noticed before, but there was a wedding band welded to his ring finger.

By now we had arrived in the sleeping quarters quadrant, and I was a little surprised to see how much it had changed. There were fewer doors and each was uniquely decorated with doormats and wreaths and painted different colors. 

“The castle adapts to different needs, and so once all of us started living having families, it gave us each our own little apartments,” the older Pidge explained.

We stopped at a door painted a pale aqua color, with a succulent wreath and a doormat that read: Doorbell broken. Yell "DING DONG!" really loud. The older Pidge pushed open the door to reveal a cozy living room, dinette and kitchen, littered with pieces of projects, toys, and video games. Family photos cluttered the walls. In the back of the apartment, a set of stairs that led to a loft space, which, I assumed, is where the girls slept. Speaking of the girls, all three of them sat on the couch, a little too stiff to have been there the whole time.

“How’d the meeting go?” the oldest asked innocently.

Her mother rolled her eyes, “As if you don’t already know.”

My older self chuckled and walked behind the couch, “This one is Stella,” he said placing his hands on the shoulders of the oldest daughter, “this one is Bianca,” he continued down the couch, placing his hands on the shoulders of the second oldest, “and this one is Halley,” he finished at the youngest one.

 _‘Space themed. Cute,’_ I thought, smirking just a little bit. Stella means “star,” Bianca is one of the moons of Uranus, and Halley comes from Halley’s Comet. I wonder who's idea that had been.

“Hi,” Pidge and I waved awkwardly. This whole thing had been awkward. I don’t think Pidge had so much as looked at me since my older self had walked into the corridor.

Just then a dog came running out of what I assumed was a bedroom. I didn't know a lot about dogs; I had never really had one growing up, but if I had to guess he was some kind of lab mix. His tail wagged excitedly, probably trying to figure out why there were two of each of his owners in one room.

"Who's this little guy?" Pidge's face lit up and she dropped to her knees. Personally, "little" is not a word I would have used to describe this dog. I guess he wasn't Great Dane size, but he certainly wasn't a chihuahua. The dog's whole body wiggled excitedly and he barreled into her, giving her a face full of slobber.

This was probably the most "normal" I had seen Pidge since we had gotten here.

"That's Pluto," her older self said with a chuckle.

Pidge grinned and cooed, "Pluto! Who's a good boy? Are you a good boy?" 

She gave the excitable pooch a kiss on the top of his head before getting to her feet so that we could get the "tour" of the house. Under the loft space there were two different hallways, one which lead only to the master bedroom, and the other that lead to two guest rooms and a bathroom. As I suspected, the girl's "rooms" were upstairs, though they weren't so much individual rooms as one large room with partition walls so they could each have their own little space. There was also another bathroom up there, and the whole loft area could be closed off from the rest of the apartment with a pair of sliding doors.

“Do you mind if I get a shower?” I asked when we came back downstairs.

“Yeah that’s fine. Let me grab you some of my stuff,” my older self said, disappearing into the master bedroom and coming out seconds later with his arms loaded down with a change of clothes and about six different hair and skin products.

I thanked him, taking the stuff and locking the bathroom door behind me.

I let out a deep sigh I hadn't realized I had been holding. It was going to be a long couple of weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this alternate reality thing, because anything I write could technically be canon because, hey, it’s an alternate reality, and it doesn’t conflict with what Pidge and Lance know as of season 5 so, tbh, I’m pretty happy.
> 
> P.S. It’s always gonna be feast or famine with me. I’ll either post a bunch at once or nothing, so I’m sorry about that, also, I included a cute family photo at the end of the chapter that you can also find on my tumblr (love-to-love-puppies).
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!

“Did you want to get changed too?” my future self asked me after Lance had disappeared into the bathroom.

“Okay,” I agreed, following her into the master bedroom, Pluto at our heels.

I love dogs, we always had one growing up and I had been feeling terribly dog-deprived since I had started at the Garrison.

I perused their closet. It had been so long since I had worn “normal” clothes. The only clothes I had were the ones I had left the Garrison in, and considering I had been in disguise as a boy at the time, they weren’t really my style.

I settled on a pair of form-fitting jeans and t-shirt, feeling the prettiest I had in _months_. While I changed, my future self took off her grease-covered shirt and put on a clean one.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. I’m not trying to be creepy or anything but, I mean, she is _me_. Sue me for being a little curious about my future body.

She’s a lot curvier than me—wider hips and bigger boobs—which I supposed wasn’t really surprising since she had had three kids. But she was still toned from years of training. On her back, a jagged line of scar tissue snaked down her shoulder blade.

“Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me there’s grease on my face?” she complained snapping me out of my thoughts.

“There’s grease on your face,” I remarked with a shit-eating grin. She turned to glare at me, trying very hard to look unamused. That might have worked on someone else, but that was funny and I knew she knew it.

She rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the mirror and wiping off the grease with a tissue. She then undid her bun, letting her hair fall down to just past her shoulders.

I felt a pang of wistfulness. I missed my long hair.

She caught my eye in the mirror and I looked away, feeling embarrassed about watching her.

I wandered over to the bed, having to do a little half-jump to get up. A picture frame on the adjacent nightstand caught my attention. 

“We go to Disney World?” I asked incredulously, picking up the frame. I had never been. The one time we had planned to go, my Nonna passed away and we had to cancel the trip. After that, Dad went into space and we didn’t get another opportunity.

“A couple times actually,” my older self laughed, “The first time was right after the war ended. We were being interviewed by an Etrustaan news anchor and she said something along the lines of ‘you’ve just defeated the Galra empire, what are you going to do next?’ and without missing a beat Lance shouts, ‘I’m going to Disney World!!’ like he had just won the fucking Superbowl. Of course the Etrustanns had no idea what he was talking about. We ended up going when we went to Florida to visit his mom, unfortunately I was super pregnant with Bianca at the time, so I couldn’t really do anything, but yeah. That picture’s from when we went this past summer.”

I nodded with a hum.

“You okay?” she asked me, turning around.

“I’m fine, there’s just a lot to take in,” I said, setting the frame back on the nightstand.

“You’re worried about how Lance is taking this,” she guessed, raising an eyebrow.

I guess there’s no sense in keeping secrets from myself.

“Yeah,” I sighed flopping back on the bed. I realized my mistake almost immediately because this side of the bed smelled like him and reminded me of the fact that our future selves undoubtedly have sex in this bed. Which, let's be honest, was _really_ not helping my current mental state.

I wish I knew how he felt about all of this. He's  _never_ this quiet. I'm sure he must be disappointed that—out of all the girls in the universe—he winds up with the one he has literally _zero_ interest in. I hadn’t missed the way he had cringed when they were talking about being married for sixteen years. I suppose I should have expected this, I mean, he’s flirts with everyone _but_ me, but it still hurt.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I worried how this would impact our friendship. Lance and I had always had a really good dynamic—puns, sarcastic remarks, low-key making fun of everyone else—but he had barely _looked_ at me since we had first seen Halley, and when he had, it had been weird, an expression I had never seen on his face.

My future self nodded, “I guess I can’t really speak for your reality, but I’m sure it’ll be okay. You’ve both just had a pretty massive bomb dropped on you, give him some time to adjust, he might come around.”

She had a point. We had likely two weeks here. Two weeks for him to see our future selves annoyingly, adorably, happy, and to interact with our future daughters. Maybe, just maybe, it would allow him to see this as our future.

“I guess you’re right,” I said.

“I know,” she grinned, “Come on, it’s dinner time.”

Right before the food was served all the introductions were made.

They started us off easy.

We met Hunk and Shay’s kids: Han and Kala. Both were super cute. They definitely looked more like Shay, but you could see little bits of Hunk in them too.

Then we met Hunk’s older sister, her husband, and their kids. Apparently, all of our respective families stayed in the castle sometimes, but his sister, Lani, was one of the few who had decided to stay permanently. We were then informed that Lani is a teacher and was in charge of “home schooling” all of the kids in the castle.

To my utter glee, I found out that Matt and Shiro are together. _Finally_. Matt had been pining over Shiro for a _long_ time. His current self would be happy to learn they end up together. They didn’t have any kids, but they told us they were in the process of adopting a set of twins.

Then I guess they decided to ramp up the surprises a little because the next person we met was Allura and Lotor’s son: Alfor. Lance hid it well, but I could tell he was upset that Allura ends up with Lotor, which only served to send a pang of jealousy through my body. I pushed it down, wishing it was easier to ignore.

Then they dropped another bomb and introduced us to Keith’s mom, Krolia, and his sister. I suppose we’d _technically_ already met his sister, Acxa, but this was the first time she wasn’t trying to _kill_ us. I still didn’t really know how I felt about her.

Then, the biggest surprise when Lance’s brother Marco walked into the room with his wife and two little kids.

“Marco?!!” Lance exclaimed grinned widely and embracing his brother. I might have been mistaken, but I thought I saw Lance tear up a little.

Marco looked to be in his later 20's, putting him about ten years younger than the future Lance.

The two were now speaking rapid-fire Spanish, which, regrettably was not my strong suit. I had taken three years of it in school, but I was still only able to make out bits and pieces. That, combined with gestures and context clues, I was able to assume that Marco was saying something along the lines of Lance being the little brother now.

Finally, we sat down to dinner. I hadn’t realized how famished I was until I saw the spread in front of me; all the space food Hunk had gotten great at preparing mixed with some Earth food. There was some kind of BBQ chicken, _actual chicken_ , mac and cheese, and Sprite. I swear almost cried. Lance and I inhaled our food.

After dinner most of the kids left the table (except for a few of the older ones) while the rest of us sat around talking, or, in my and Lance’s case, mostly listening. 

It was weird, but comfortable. It reminded me of this one time my family had rented a lake house with some of our close family friends. I was little at that time, so I had spent most of the time playing with the kids my age, but I remember looking at the adults, drinking, laughing, playing cards, and wondering what that was like. Now I guess I knew.

My older self grabbed a couple bottles of wine, opening them and placing them in the center of the table. She poured herself a glass from one and the older Lance grabbed the other one. She then placed a few empty glasses in front of us, much to my surprise.

“Hey!” Stella complained, “I’m technically the same age.”

“'Technically', being the operative word there,” my older self said, gave her a pointed look.

Beside me, I saw Lance grab the dark red wine and pour himself a glass. He swirled it around in the glass like a pro before taking a sip, he caught my eye and grinned, “You want a sip?”

“Okay,” I said a little surprised that he had offered. 

“You’re not gonna like it,” my older self warned, “Or at least I don’t.”

I was sure she was right, because I usually don’t like alcohol, but this was the most interaction I had had with Lance in hours. I took a sip, and then immediately handed the glass back, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

“Told you,” my older self said, “He only drinks really dry wines. Try this, it’s a lot better,” she poured a little of the other bottle of wine in my glass.

Hesitantly I took a sip, surprised by the sweet taste. There was still a slightly bitter aftertaste from the alcohol, but otherwise it was like drinking white grape juice.

“You like it?” my older self grinned.

“It’s really good,” I replied and she filled up my glass.

“Can I taste it?” Lance asked me.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, passing him my glass. I tried to remind myself that we had eaten and drank after each other like a hundred times before, but, knowing we’re going to be together, this interaction felt different; almost like we were kissing.

Internally, I wanted to kick myself. Lance definitely didn’t think of it that way and I was only setting myself up for disappointment by getting worked up about such a little thing. Still, I felt my heart unwittingly skip a beat when he took a sip from my glass.

“It’s so _sweet_ ,” Lance said, wrinkling his nose.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I laughed.

“It’s too sweet,” he said. The way he said it was like had had just drank straight syrup. It’s not _that_ sweet, but I guess I do have a really high tolerance for sweet things.

“It’s still better than yours. You should not be able to describe a liquid as dry,” I argued playfully.

“I think we’ve had this exact argument before,” my older self laughed, which seemed to remind us that we were in the future. For a second it almost felt like things were back to normal, but now it was weird again as Lance handed the glass back to me without making eye contact.

Our older selves exchanged a glance and a nod. I frowned, trying to understand this interaction. My future self caught my eye and gave me wink.

What the _hell_ did that mean?

Eventually, the table dissipated when people went to put their respective kids to bed and we returned to the apartment.

“I think I’ll get a shower,” I announced, heading into the bathroom. After getting a hot shower, changing into some comfy PJ’s my future self had given me, I laid down in my bed in the guest room.

And, try as I might, could not fall asleep.

* * *

 

Here's the family at Disney World, and a link to the image [on tumblr](http://love-to-love-puppies.tumblr.com/post/173110251986/you-just-defeated-the-galra-empire-what-are-you)

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What should I be doing? A research paper, my project, or sleeping. What am I doing? This.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!
> 
> P.S. Thanks so much to all of y’all who left comments or kudos, your positive feedback means the world to me!! I love y’all!!

“Screw it,” I finally sighed after having laid awake for hours. It was probably close to five o’clock in the morning and I was no closer to falling asleep.

I quietly opened the bedroom door and crept into the hallway. I could hear Lance’s quiet snoring from the room beside mine. At least _one_ of us could sleep.

I pulled out some photo albums and boxes from the shelves behind the TV, propping myself up on the couch.

I heard a groan from Pluto, followed by the light clicking sound of his nails on the floor as he wandered over to investigate what I was doing.

“Hi buddy,” I whispered, giving his ears a scratch. His tail thumped against the coffee table and I grabbed it to prevent him from making any more noise. It was definitely the lab in him that made that tail go a mile a minute. He looked more lab than anything else, but he has that specific bulkiness and head shape about him that made guess that he was likely 25% pitt bull.

“Shhh,” I said, holding a finger to my lips. I patted the couch next to me motioning for him to come up. He jumped up without any hesitation, turned a few circles (whacking me in the face with his tail as he did) before laying down and falling right back asleep.

“Good boy,” I breathed, patting his back.

Careful not to disturb him, I flipped through the photo albums. When I was growing up, my mom had always taken a ton of pictures of Matt and me. We had albums and boxes of photos everywhere and I used to love looking at them. I always said that if I ever had kids, I would like to do the same thing. I was glad to see I had kept my promise.

I didn’t want to turn on any lights, afraid I might wake someone up, so I looked over the albums by the light of the full moon through the skylights and the little nightlight plugged in in the corner. It was just enough light that I didn’t have to strain my eyes to see.

The albums were labeled chronologically by year. I picking up the first one which began when we had started dating. There were a lot of selfies in this one. It moved into engagement photos. I skipped passed these; _if_ Lance and I do end up together, I want to be surprised when he proposes.

The next album was the wedding album, which was far more professional than the rest. Nice paper, with artistic, full-bleed images. My favorite image was one where I was walking down the aisle. The photographer stood behind me and my dress was blurred in the corner of the frame. But beyond me, you could see Lance, looking at me like I was the best thing in the world.

I couldn’t help but smile a little to myself, hoping one day I might get to see it in person.

I turned the last page of that album and picked up the next one in the stack. It started with a few honeymoon photos, but soon became pregnancy photos, then Stella was born. My heart melted seeing Lance hold her. He smiled at her so tenderly while she slept in his arms. We must have taken a thousand pictures of her. I suppose that’s always what happens with the first baby; Matt had always had more pictures than me. She had that album and another album all to herself. Lots of birthdays, her learning to ride her bike through the halls of the castle, her first day of “school,” pictures of her with her aunts, uncles, and grandparents. The pictures were all so happy, I almost forgot that we would have still been fighting a war at that time. Towards the end of that album, the pregnancy pictures with Bianca began, including the pictures of a very pregnant me at Disney World after we had won the war.

I rolled my eyes, imagining that I probably spent a lot of time waiting for Lance and Stella to get off the rides because I likely couldn’t ride much of anything while pregnant.

Bianca was born in the next album. It was easy to see how much she looked like me now, but as a baby it was even more obvious. With no hair and her eyes closed, I might have thought I was looking at my own baby pictures. I flipped to the next page and there was this one photo of the four of us in the hospital, me holding Bianca, Stella next to me in the hospital bed, and Lance standing behind me, smiling down at me and the girls like he had everything he could ever want.

Halley was born in the next album and there was that look again. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it. I felt a pang of longing; I _wanted_ this future. I realized then that it was a mistake to look at these albums, especially when there was every chance this would never happen. I felt tears prick at my eyes, and I quickly whisked them away. How could I be crying over something that hadn’t happened yet?

I jumped at the sound of a door opening, looking down the hallway towards my room to see if Lance was coming out. Nope. The sound had come from the other direction and the other Lance, who wandered across the room in the dark, flipping on the kitchen light.

He jumped when he looked over and saw me sitting on the couch.

" _Holy shit,_  Pidge," he hissed.

"Sorry, I didn’t meant to scare you,” I said, keeping my voice low so as not to wake anyone else.

“You’re up and _I’m_ not? Is that normal for your reality?” he asked.

“No, I couldn’t sleep,” I explained.

“So naturally you sit in the living room. In the dark,” he arched an eyebrow.

“I was looking through some of the albums,” I told him, “I didn’t want to wake anyone up by turning on a light.”

He walked over and leaned over me from behind the couch. I may or may not have used the opportunity to stealthily check him out. I mean, he is shirtless right now. I could see there was a tattoo over his heart, something written in what looked to be my handwriting, but I couldn’t read it at this angle.

“This is one of my favorites,” he said picking up the open album and pulling a picture out of the sleeve. In the picture he was bathing a one-year-old Halley and a three-year-old Bianca. He had a beard of bubbles over his actual beard and the girls were both laughing in glee.

He smiled fondly at the picture before putting it back.

“Since you’re up, would you like some breakfast?” he asked.

“That depends, what do you have?” I asked. I don’t tend to eat a big breakfast, if I eat breakfast at all. It just doesn’t usually sit right with my stomach.

“We have s’mores poptarts,” he grinned at me.

“You have poptarts!” I exclaimed, just a little louder than I meant to. I _love_ poptarts, s’mores and brown sugar cinnamon especially. They were considered contraband at the Garrison so I could only get them every once in a while when someone was able to smuggle them in.

“Thought that might get your attention,” he chuckled, “Let me guess, lightly toasted?”

“Yes, please,” I said. He chuckled to himself again, whistling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Livin’ la Vida Loca’ as he dropped a poptart in the toaster and started the coffeepot. 

“What does your tattoo say?” I asked walking over and sitting at the barstool across from him.

“Part of it is a line from your vows with the date we got married and underneath it says the girls names and their birthdays,” he replied giving me a smile as he poured the coffee. He dumped some creamer into one of them along with four packets of sugar. A second later, my poptart popped out of the toaster. He put it on a plate and slid both the pastry and the sweetened coffee across the counter to me.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Of course,” he smiled, leaning against the back counter, watching me wordlessly, probably not sure what to say.

I took a bite of the poptart— _so_ good—while trying to read his chest. He noticed and moved the arm that was partially crossed over it out of the way.

_‘I want to spend the rest of my life next to you. Whether it be, fighting at your side, using your strength, or giving you mine. Whatever happens, we’re in this together. And if we have to walk through hell, there’s no one I’d rather walk with. (6.5.2050)_

_Stella Marie (2.8.2052)    Bianca Grace (4.4.2057)    Halley Nicole (10.26.2059)’_

“Is that the best quote you could have picked?” I asked, “Surely I said something more romantic?” Or at least I _hoped_ I did. I know I’m not always that good at putting my feeling into words, but I hoped I at least said ‘I love you’ in my wedding vows.

The older Lance looked at me blankly for a second before he burst out laughing, “I’ll be honest that’s really not what I was expecting you to say. In answer to your question, you did, but we were in the middle of a war and, somehow, this seemed more fitting at the time.”

Oh.

“Besides,” he shrugged taking a sip of his coffee, “Anyone can say, ‘you’re my best friend and I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you’ which is what _I_ said. But offering to fight at someone’s side and walk through hell with them? I’m not sure there’s a better expression of love.”

The master bedroom door opened.

“Speaking of love, good morning my beautiful wife,” he smirked at her.

She grunted in response, taking the seat next to me, “You guys are loud.”

There was something about this interaction that felt familiar. With a start, I realized it reminded me of my parents. Not sure whether to feel endeared or disturbed, I finally settled on endeared since my parents have been happily married for twenty-two years.

The older Lance passed the older me a cup of coffee prepared the same way he had mine before dropping another popart in the toaster. When it popped out, he passed it to my older self who managed a tired smile of gratitude.

“Good morning,” my Lance said, coming out of his room and taking the last seat on the opposite side of me. I noted that he was also shirtless, wearing essentially the same outfit as his older self. “Outfit” being the operative word since they were both only wearing gray sweatpants. He squinted at the tattoo on his older self’s chest, then glanced at me before looking away just as quickly.

I wish I knew what that meant. Reading people has never really been my strong suit, it was, however, one of Lance's strengths.

“What’s for breakfast?” Lance asked. I know he hadn’t said anything, but it felt a lot like he was changing the subject.

“We’ve got eggs and chorizo,” his older self said.

“Oh God, yes,” Lance said.

“The chorizo isn’t as good as mom’s,” his older self said pulling a frozen container out of the freezer, “but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’d eat it if you told me you had taken it out of a McDonald’s dumpster. I’m so sick of food goo for breakfast,” Lance said.

His older self laughed grabbing a frying pan from the cabinet and turning on the cooktop.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” I said without meaning to. I probably sounded more surprised than I had intended, but he had never mentioned it before. My Lance looked at me with an expression I couldn’t interpret.

“Well _one_ of us has to,” his older self joked. He wasn’t wrong. If it was more complicated than instant ramen, chances are I would have made it inedible. “I’m not at Hunk’s skill level, but I can make most _earth_ foods things taste pretty decent.”

“It’s true,” my future self shrugged. She stood up, collecting our empty plates, setting them in the sink. I saw her glance at the clock, “Speaking of, Hunk’s probably already up, we should get dressed so we can get started on getting you guys back home.”

“Right,” I said. As much as I was enjoying being here, we had to get home. The team couldn’t form Voltron without us there, and if anyone found that out, they would be sitting ducks. I stood up, following her into the bedroom to get dressed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Procrastination Nation population: me. 
> 
> Anyway, here is yet another chapter. Enjoy!

“She’s worse than the girls, I swear,” my older self complained, shaking his head with a smile as he moved the plates in the sink to the dishwasher, “I always end up doing all the cleaning around here.”

I laughed. I had seen Pidge’s room so somehow that didn’t really come as much of a surprise.

I polished off two plates of chorizo and eggs, knowing I’d never be able to eat food goo again.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

For some reason that comment kept coming back to me.

The amount of surprise with which she said it was borderline insulting. Why was it so hard to believe that I could cook? Did she have _that_ low an opinion of my intelligence that she didn’t think I would be able to do anything she couldn’t?

I hoped I was reading too much into this, but our whole dynamic had been off since we had gotten here. We’ve always been good friends, but this whole thing had the potential to seriously fuck that up. And, as much as I didn’t want to lose this future with Pidge, the idea of losing her friendship scared me much more.

She had disappeared into the master bedroom with her older self about ten minutes ago and came out in a pink tank top and jeans, her short hair pulled back in adorable little pigtails at the base of her neck. She looked amazing. And, if it's possible, these past two days she had radiated more confidence than she normally did. Last night I couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her.

“You okay?” my older self asked, when the front door closed behind them.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. He knew I was lying, I could tell by the quirk of his eyebrow, but he didn’t call me out. Instead, he collected my now-empty plate and his own, loading them both in the dishwasher.

I walked over to the living room. Pluto lifted his head, watching me lazily, a steady thump of his tail against the back of the couch.

“Pluto, get off the couch,” my older self sighed, but made no effort to move the dog.

“Was Pidge looking at these?” I asked, noticing the slew of photo albums spread out across the other half of the couch.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Scared the shit out of me when I came out here and she was sitting in the dark,” he replied.

I picked up the one that was laying half-open on the couch, casually flipping through the pages. I paused at a candid photo of Pidge in a hospital bed, sweat coating her forehead, and a newborn Halley cradled in her left arm. A two-year-old Bianca sat beside her on the bed, obviously very curious about her new little sister and a seven year old Stella leaned over the side, standing on her toes to get a better view. I stood to Pidge’s right, her hand tenderly caressing my cheek, both of us utterly transfixed in each other’s gaze.

“Don’t worry, dude. It’ll happen. Assuming you _want_ it to,” my older self said having read my face.

“You don’t know that. Just because it happened for you guys doesn’t mean it’ll happen for us,” I told him.

“What makes you say that?” he asked from the kitchen.

“She definitely doesn’t feel that way about me,” I shrugged sitting next to Pluto on the couch. I accidentally sat on his paw and the dog gave a groan to signal to me his annoyance.

I apologized to the dog, scooting over. He seemed to accept this, and laid his big head down again, offering a little lick to the tips of my fingers.

“If you say so…” my future self drawled evasively.

“Why? Do you know something?” I asked perking up a little.

“All I know is that she was up super early, pouring over albums of a future with _you_ ,” he shrugged, "That just doesn't seem like something that someone who doesn't like you would do."

I suppose he had a point, but Pidge is also naturally pretty curious and a notoriously insomniatic. So, there was every chance she simply couldn’t sleep, and started flipping through these albums out of sheer boredom. Still, I suppose that the fact that she had made it through this many albums, this many tender moments and events in our lives, had to count for something, right?

“Maybe,” I conceded.

* * *

I didn’t see Pidge the rest of the day. I couldn’t help thinking that if they were working this hard to get us home, than she must not enjoy being here—not that I didn’t understand how important it is for us to go home—but surely she could have taken a break.

Maybe she was just avoiding me.

I had spent the rest of the day playing games with the girls.

It had started with just video games. Stella was overjoyed by the fact that I was suddenly much closer to her skill level. She still lost but she said she appreciated having a fairer fight.

After that, Halley decided that we should play hide and seek with the other kids in the castle.

"You never invite me to play," my older self feigned hurt.

"That's because you're old," Halley remarked.

"The amount of disrespect I put up with," he tsked, but his eyes shined with amusement.

I wondered why they had invited me to play at all. I mean, I know I'm seventeen, but I'm still technically their dad. Granted, I suppose I didn't have anything better to do, so why the hell not?

Plus, that way, Stella, who usually felt too old for these games, didn’t have to be the oldest one playing.

Halley wanted to seek first, so while she counted to one hundred, I ran to the kitchen, scrambling to the top shelf of the pantry. I kept the door of the pantry cracked just slightly, not enough that I could be seen, but enough that I had a slim view of the kitchen.

From down the hall I heard a very loud, “Ready or not, here I come!” followed by the loud barreling of her footsteps past the kitchen.

I might be here awhile.

It had probably been five minutes when Pidge and Pidge (Pidge2?) entered the kitchen, chatting amicably. They walked passed the pantry to the fridge and I heard the distinct sound of a couple cans of soda being opened.

“He did not!” I heard Pidge say, though I couldn’t really tell which one.

“Oh yes he did,” the other one laughed, “Trust me, I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to.”

“What a goofball,” Pidge said. There was that word again. She had called me that before. I hated it. It always made me feel like my only value to the team is telling jokes.

“No doubt,” the other one replied, “and then this other time—so, we had the girls in American public school for like a year—and this one day Stella comes home and she’s like, can one of you take me to school in your lions. And we’re like, ‘ _why?_ ’ and she says ‘none of the other kids believe that you’re paladins of Voltron.’ So, of course we had to form Voltron to take the girls to school the next day.”

“That’s fucking awesome,” Pidge managed through a fit of cackling laughter.

“Just the look on everyone’s faces made it totally worth it. And Stella just has the biggest smirk on her face and her little shoulders were so tall, it was so great,” her older said, and even though I couldn’t see her, I could hear the smile in her voice.

There were a few seconds of silence before, presumably, the older Pidge asked, “So, is it any less awkward between you and your Lance?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a little,” Pidge sighed, “I haven’t really seen him all day because we've been working and he wasn't in the apartment when when I went back for lunch. But maybe that’s a good thing."

 _'Why is that a good thing?'_ I wondered, a little hurt.

"Why is it a good thing?" her older self voiced my exact thoughts.

"Because he kept giving me these really weird looks over breakfast. And I know some of this is probably my fault because I’m sure I’m probably being weird about it too but, you know, it’s _Lance_ so I can't just pretend that everything's the same. I mean, three days ago I wouldn't have believed we would ever get together and then we find out that we're going to be  _married_.”

I couldn’t see her, so making out facial context and gestures was impossible, but it sounded pretty clear-cut from where I was sitting. My shoulders sagged, and I held back a sigh that would probably have given me away.

She thinks this whole thing is weird because of _me_ specifically. She would never have believed we’d end up together if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

So much for her liking me.

I knew it was stupid to get my hopes up.

“But he's also my best friend and I don't want to ruin everything we have,” she said.

Well, at least there’s that. Despite everything, I allowed myself a little smile. Even if we didn’t end up together, I’d settle for being her best friend.

They walked out a few seconds later and I climbed down, not really feeling like playing anymore. I wandered back to the apartment.

“Hey,” my older self said, looking up from his laptop, a pair of reading glasses on his face.

“Hey,” I replied.

“You okay? You look like you got hit by a bus," he told me, "Did the girls wear you out or something?”

“I’m fine,” I sighed flopping on the couch, “I’m just tired.”

“…Okay,” he relented, clearly not buying it, “Well, you’ve got time for a nap if you want one, dinner’s not for a few more hours.”

Now that I thought about it, a nap sounded great.

“Yeah okay,” I agreed, “Wake me before we eat. Oh—and the girls might still be looking for me so—”

“So you were never here? Gotcha,” he winked, returning to his work.

I chuckled a little flopping down on the bed, sleep coming as a welcomed relief from the jumbled thoughts in my head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is it so much harder to chapters out when there's no external pressures from school? Like suddenly now that I have time to write that's the last thing I want to do.
> 
> Oh well, here's a new chapter! (I will try to get them out more often but I can't make any promises lol)
> 
> Enjoy!!

After dinner, Lance had been dragged off by the girls. I was a little jealous that they seemed to like him better than me. The only exception was Stella who sat beside me, animatedly explaining how she had created a completely bullet/energy blast proof fabric with the texture and thickness of a cotton t-shirt.

Of the three, she seemed to be the only one who had inherited my love of inventing.

Apparently, she had been offered a place at the Garrison, but she had turned them down. Something about there being too much pressure for her to live up to expectations.

I guess I understood where she was coming from, I mean, she has me, Lance, her Uncle Matt, her Uncle Shiro, and her grandfather—three paladins of Voltron, one rebel fighter, and a galaxy-renowned scientist as alumni. Still, I think she would do fine, but there was no changing her mind.

“If I did go to the Garrison, either I wouldn’t live up to their expectations of how smart I should be, or I _would_ and they would say it’s only because of who my family is. Either way I can’t win,” she told me with a shrug.

“Fair point,” I agreed, “I think I’m going to go see where your sisters dragged Lance, you want to come?”

“Sure,” she agreed happily following after me. Stella had latched onto Lance and I since we had gotten here and I figured it was because she wasn’t used to having people her age on the ship. Even though we’re technically her parents, it must be nice to have someone to relate to.

How Lance and I ended up being the first ones to have kids was beyond me, up until recently ~~two days ago~~ I wasn’t even sure I was going to _have_ kids. It's not that I don't like kids, I do. I just have no experience with them. I'm the youngest of my family and I don't know _anything_ about babies. But I knew Lance loved kids. He had little siblings and cousins; that must be why he's so good with the girls.

Speaking of Lance, he had been even weirder since yesterday afternoon, and that was saying something considering how weird he had _already_ been. He had still barely spoken to me, but now there was something almost sad in the way he looked at me. I wished I knew what was wrong.

“You okay?” I had asked him at breakfast this morning.

“I’m fine,” he had replied. He was lying, otherwise he probably would have smiled or made a joke, but I hadn’t pressed. Clearly, he doesn’t want to talk to _me_ about it.

I was beginning to wonder if this fissure in our relationship was becoming irreparable.

I was interrupted from that thought by the sound of a guitar strumming somewhere in the castle.

“Oh, they must be in the music room,” Stella said.

Music room?

Sure enough that’s exactly where they were—an acoustically balanced room, littered with various instruments and kind of reminded me of my elementary school music class. Lance sat on a stool with the girls and a few other kids sitting on the floor in front of him.

I didn’t even know he could play guitar—evidently there’s a lot I don’t know about Lance. I admitted to myself that that was probably my own fault for never bothering to ask. Now that I thought about it, what did I know about _any_ of my team members? Had I really been so wrapped up in my own issues that I had never bothered to ask about theirs?

Well, that was going to change starting now.

I leaned in the doorway, listening to Lance play. I recognized the song as Simple Man, it was one my dad had listened to a lot when Matt and I were little.

Then he started to sing and _holy shit_ he’s really good! His pitch was perfect. His fingers worked their way over the frets without even looking and he made goofy faces at the kids between stanzas.

I’ve never been more attracted to him.

When he finished we clapped and that was the first time he had noticed that Stella and I were in the room. I think I saw him flush a little.

“You’re really good,” I told him, pulling up a stool and sitting next to him.

“Thanks,” he grinned.

“How long have you been playing?” I wondered.

“I started teaching myself when I was nine,” he replied.

“Wow! That's amazing, Lance," I told him, meaning it.

“Thanks,” he said again, this time I could definitely tell he was blushing.

I pulled my legs up underneath me, awkwardly balancing crisscross applesauce on the stool, looking at him expectantly.

“Aren’t you going to keep playing?” I asked after a few beats of awkward silence.

“Oh, right, yeah,” he said, “Any requests?”

“Do you know ‘I Want it That Way’?” I asked. I was totally kidding. I was not even expecting him to know the song since it’s by some boy band and was released way before either of us were born—I think it came out like three years after my _mom_ was born. She's the only reason I know the song to begin with.

“Backstreet Boys, seriously?” he cracked a smile, “I’ll be honest, I’ve never had anyone request that, but if you can play it on your phone, I can probably figure it out from there.”

“I was totally kidding, but can you really play it just by ear?” I asked. That’s an incredible talent.

“Usually,” he shrugged.

“That’s so cool! I always wished I could do that,” I said.

“You play?” he asked, his eyebrows going up.

“Piano,” I told him.

“That’s awesome!” he grinned, “Play something! I’ll back you up!” he gestured to the piano in the corner that I hadn’t noticed.

“Only if we can find some sheet music,” I said. I haven’t played since I was ten so, a lot of the songs I used to have memorized were gone, but I could still read music.

“There’s some in the bench,” Bianca said, “Mom’s been teaching me how to play.” This might have been the first time I had heard her voice. She doesn’t say much, but she’s always watching and listening. From what I could tell, from the hundreds of drawings she has pinned up in her area of the loft, she’s ridiculously artistic so it came as no surprise she was also musically inclined.

“Really?” I asked alternating between looking at her and flipping through the stacks of music. I recognized a lot of these as my own music books. My future self must have taken them from my parents’ house. Most of those books were early learning books, which consisted largely of nursery rhymes, classical songs, or Christmas songs, and all were decorated with stickers that had peeled and yellowed since I had put them on there.

“Yeah, she teaches me every Wednesday and Dad teaches me guitar every Monday,” she beamed.

“That’s great! I hope I’m a better teacher than my piano teacher was. She was _mean_ ,” I told her, “She once told me that teaching me was like teaching a bag of flour to swim.”

“That’s an…interesting analogy? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before,” Lance chuckled.

“She had a lot of strange phrases like that,” I laughed, “But I never forgot it.”

Finally, I found a book of songs that were made in the last century—arguably still before my time, but it would do.

 _‘That’ll work,’_ I grinned to myself when I found the perfect song. I propped the book up in the stand.

Lance’s eyes lit up when I started playing the first few notes.

“Just a small town girl, livin’ in a lonely world, she took the midnight train going any where,” I sang the Journey song. It was an old song—1981, which would have made my grandma 11 at the time it was released. Nevertheless, it was still exceptionally popular two generations later. In fact, I had done it for Pop Show while I was in choir so I _knew_ I could sing it well.

Lance picked up his guitar and started play and sing with me, our voices harmonizing easily.

I hadn’t realized we had accumulated an audience until literally every adult in the castle had started clapping after we had finished. How had I missed sixteen people walking in?

“Such a talented family,” Hunk’s sister commented, before collecting her kids to take them off to bed. The remaining adults and kids dissipated until it was just us, our older selves and the girls.

“You’re a really good singer,” Lance said to me.

“Thanks,” I smiled, “I was in regional choir during middle school.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw our future selves exchange a conniving look and the older Lance picked up a second guitar in the corner.

“You stole the good one,” Lance’s older self complained to his younger self. He let out a whistle and tuned the guitar accordingly. I am ridiculously in awe of his ability to do everything by ear.

When he started to play Brown-Eyed Girl and I suddenly understood that shared scheming look between our older selves. My dad used to sing this song to my mom—off key and horribly—but I always thought it was so romantic.

I was utterly floored when _my_ Lance started singing and playing the backups.

At one point he glanced at me, blushed like crazy and looked away immediately, which only served to make me blush harder.

When they finished, it was time for the younger girls to go to bed. My older self forced Stella to come with them, chastising her about not having finished her homework yet—though I got the feeling it was more to get Lance and I alone.

A silence fell over the now-empty room. Somewhere nearby, but still outside of the music room, a light flickered off. The steady hum of the castle felt almost cacophonous in the acoustic chamber.

“We should um…probably go back to the apartment,” he rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at me.

“Right,” I said, a little crestfallen, “This was nice.”

“Yeah,” he laughed nervously, “We should do this more often.”

“Yeah,” I said with a smile, “Maybe we should.”

 


End file.
